


Ride Or Die

by kissesfromkrug



Series: NHL Death Fics [3]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Accidental Death, Alternate Universe, Crack Treated Seriously, Crimes & Criminals, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-25
Updated: 2017-05-25
Packaged: 2018-11-04 16:13:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10994427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kissesfromkrug/pseuds/kissesfromkrug
Summary: Mitch has never seen someone look so lost in their own home.





	Ride Or Die

**Author's Note:**

> Not for profit, fictional; feel free to point out any typos. :)
> 
> I'm happy with the positive response I got with the last one, so I'm continuing the Matthews/Marner Crime AU ;D.
> 
> It can be read following the events of "Take My Hand Through The Flames" or as a standalone, I don't think it quite matters.
> 
> Title taken from "Gangsta" by Kehlani

"Mitch, what's that smell?" Auston calls, the front door shutting softly behind him. "How's dinner coming?"

"It's, uh..." Mitch stares at the sight in front of him, too many thoughts racing through his head as Auston approaches. "I'm not a very good cook, but—"

"You just have to go by the recipe, it's really not that hard." Mitch panics, hauling the body to the closet and slamming it inside. He whirls around as Auston comes around the corner.

"Hi! Um."

"What're you making?" Auston asks, gripping a few shopping bags in his left hand.

"The—it's, uh—macaroni casserole," Mitch gets out, back still to the outside of the closet door. He crosses his arms over his chest and tries to look nonchalant about it.

"What's all over you?" Good question. Mitch was hoping Auston wouldn't notice that.

"Oh! This?" Mitch laughs, pretending to be surprised. "Cranberry juice, I was thirsty and I guess I spilled a little on my shirt." Auston sets the bags on the counter and starts unloading them.

"Thought you didn't like cranberry juice," he says casually, tossing the lunch-meats in their drawer in the fridge.

"Never said that." Mitch isn't doing a very good job at this.

"We don't have cranberry juice, either." Auston sets the orange juice and milk cartons on the drink rack, sliding the fruits into their drawer.

"I drank it all. Thirsty, remember?" Mitch tries weakly, making a move to help Auston with the groceries.

"Mitch." Auston balls the plastic bag up in his hands and turns to look at him. "Who is it?"

"Who's what? Who are we talking about? What? What's happening?"  _Real smooth, Mitch, real smooth_ , he thinks to himself, choosing to stare at the clock on the microwave. "Who's  _who_?"

"Do I really have to specify?" Auston sighs, and Mitch gulps.

"I really don't know—"

"The person in the closet. Who is it?"

"I, uh, well, you see, I was visiting with—"

"With who?" Auston interrupts, leaning closer to Mitch, who sends him a glare.

"Shut up and I  _might_ tell you." Auston purses his lips and drops the crumpled bag on the dark granite island, staring intently at his boyfriend. " _Anyway_ , I had a friend over, and he was gonna help me cook and stuff, but he wouldn't shut up about—"

" _Why is there someone in our closet?_ " Auston demands.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—" Mitch protests weakly, wondering how Auston can read him so easily. He's pinned to the counter, Auston leaning over him with a hand on his waist and one in his hair. He grips tight enough to bruise and tugs Mitch's head back so he's staring at the ceiling, and Mitch can hardly breathe. His heart rate triples as Auston lets his teeth scrape over the white column of Mitch's throat, whole body pressing him backward.

"You better figure out who you want or I'll make you," Auston hisses, and Mitch freezes. 

"What?"

"Don't play dumb."

"No, I—I didn't—what's happening?"

"Who's in the closet?" Auston demands, biting at the curve of Mitch's neck and shoulder. He bites back a squeak.

"I-I'll show you, just—" Auston sets his jaw and stands back, this arms crossed over his bulky chest. Mitch forces himself not to stare as he takes the few steps back to the hallway closet. "I don't know what you thought, but..." He opens the door, and a limp body falls onto the ground in front of them. Auston jumps back. "I know I said I wouldn't anymore, but I couldn't help myself, I—"

"I thought you were fucking  _cheating_ on me, you asshole," Auston interrupts, relieved as he runs a hand through his long, chestnut locks of hair. "I—"

"That's the stupidest thing you've ever said," Mitch shoots back, a little normality having returned. "And believe me, you've said a _lot_ of stupid shit." Still, there's a dead body in front of them that they're not talking about.

"So, uh. Who's this?" Mitch kneels down, hesitant to touch the corpse before throwing all misgivings to the wind and rolling it over. "You didn't."

"I'm sorry! I lost control, lost track—I don't know, I lost something, and I didn't mean to, I—I couldn't help myself!" Mitch really needs to get a handle on his stutter.

" _Mitchell Marner_!"

"Auston, I'm so so sorry, I swear, I swear to god, I'm so sorry, I really am, I'm so sorry," Mitch babbles, but Auston doesn't hear it, or can't.

"Mitch—" He guiltily looks up to see tears gathering in Auston's dark eyes, a hand to his mouth with the other on his hip. He stands only a couple feet from Mitch's crouched position, but he looks miles away. Mitch has never seen someone look so lost in their own home.

"I'm sorry," he repeats softly, but Auston isn't listening. "I didn't know what I was doing."

"Clearly!" Auston shouts suddenly, and Mitch jumps. "What the fuck, Mitch, you  _killed_ your own friend! How  _could_ you?!"

"It was an accident! I got upset 'cause he kept talking about you and I didn't want to tell him that I was jealous so I—" Mitch stands up, cutting himself off.

"So you what? What? What  _appropriate response_ did you have to that?"

"He was talking about fucking you," Mitch admits, "And I was upset so I just...I just..." Auston leans his forearms on the island, plump lips pressed together in a thin white line. "I stabbed him...in the gut...a lot of times. He bled a lot, um, more than I thought he would." Mitch's mouth finally snaps shut as he realizes that Auston probably doesn't want any more details, seeing him brush away the tears and take a deep breath.

"We need to find you a new way to get out your anger," he sighs, crossing his legs as he stares blankly across the kitchen at the tiled backsplash. "A new hobby to keep you out of trouble." He licks his lips absent-mindedly.

"Cooking?" Auston gestures to the corpse and shakes his head. "Gardening?"

"You'd probably break the hoe or shovel or whatever over your knee and throw it at someone." Mitch smirks, smoothly sliding across the kitchen floor in his socks.

"I can be your hoe," he purrs, pressing his body against Auston's side. Auston laughs.

"That's not even hot." The look in his eyes says otherwise.

"You know you want me,  _papi_ , I'll do whatever you want."

"You never listen to me," Auston shoots back, but Mitch can tell he's more than on board.

"Never hurts to try."

"No, it doesn't..." Auston grabs Mitch by the nape of his neck and roughly kisses him, teeth sharp on his lips and tongue darting in his mouth. Mitch moans helplessly, and Auston tries everything in his power to draw as many sounds out of that pretty mouth as possible. Mitch runs his hands under Auston's shirt, feeling out the taut muscles of his back and shoulders as he sinks even deeper into the kiss, surrounded by Auston's radiating strength.

"Bedroom?" Mitch doesn't intend for it to be a question, but he's high on Auston and can't think straight.

"No." He's dragged to the couch, the bed too far away for Auston to even consider. The body is long forgotten, still lying prostrate and bloody in front of the closet.

They'll deal with it later tonight—or tomorrow, based on how the night is going.


End file.
